


Normal people knock first

by nekoii



Series: 007 Games 2017 [2]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Drunkenness, Gen, Other, Trans Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekoii/pseuds/nekoii
Summary: Trans character day prompt. Short one-shot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Written for the 007 Games-Fest 2017 on Tumblr hosted by Mi6-Cafe)  
> Un-beta'ed

* * *

 

The moment the words left his mouth, the air around Q changed. The minute shifts in the lithe boffin’s posture, his expression - as Bond watched, and replayed his own words in his mind. A bad aftertaste growing in his mouth. 

“Don’t patronise me, 007″ Q snapped, his voice low, controlled, and vibrating with anger. The double agent leaned back, studying his quartermaster’s expression. Beneath the flush and eyes that glared daggers at him - only obvious by someone as trained as James Bond - was mortification so deep, Bond broke eye contact and looked to the ground. 

He always liked teasing Q, but this was too much, the sort that even made the likes of Bond feel guilty. When he looked up again, Q had composed himself, but the thin press of his lips was telling of how upset he was. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking at Q sincerely, sloping his stance down a notch from his usual confident stance. “That was, out of line.” 

The agent searched his mind for something else to say, but the fact that  _he_  was the cause of unearthing the dirt Q had so carefully kept buried. The guilt that churned in his gut was something he hadn’t had to deal with for such a long time, he didn’t quite know what to do. So he quietly left Q branch.

* * *

Driving around only helped so much, and after draining his tank dry, Bond returned to his flat. Mind set on the item he intended to retrieve. One of the many ‘lost’ firearms Q branch had equipped him with during missions.

He knew that returning one item wouldn’t be the cure-all to this. But he hoped, it would be something, while he grovelled his way through the rest. Because really, Bond couldn’t figure out a better plan. 

Finding out Q was undergoing a gender transition - still undergoing it - was a shock. Through and through, Q had always been male in his eyes, too slim and delicate features, but still very much male. That Q was born a different gender, wasn’t something that ever crossed his mind. Bond wasn’t proud with the way he handled that information - or not handle it. 

It took him completely by surprise, and the gravity of it was heavier than anything Bond ever had to deal with, emotion-wise. Out of depth for the first time in decades of his life, Bond had fumbled. And made a mistake.

Q’s branch, is one of the most diverse branches in all of MI6. There was an equal gender distribution, representation of several ethnicities, ages and an open no-discrimination what-so-ever policy as a core rule. Every newly hired minion would know of the Q branch rules. Any minion caught saying derogatory remarks or using discrimination practices could very well be fired immediately.

“He went home,” R said pointedly, intercepting Bond’s entry into Q branch with a fierce glare. Her usually warm almond-shaped eyes icy as she stared at bond with her nose tilted up. “He stopped by a liquor store, by the way.” 

The information Q branch provided him was valuable, but at times, Q’s minions would also feed him with details with carried on baggage. Their hints dead obvious, R’s irate unexpected, but only stressing on the lines he shouldn’t have crossed. 

Here he was planning to just sneak into Q branch, and leaving it somewhere Q or one of his minions would find. Instead, Bond finds himself standing in front of Q’s door, looking pointedly away from the security camera.

What was he doing here? Bond sighed, looking at a light that blinked green from a LED embedded in the door. 

“Normal people fuck first.” Q whipped his door open, eyes half-lidded and blinking slowly. Before frowning hard at the double agent standing on his doorstep.

“That’s not right.” He slurred as he tottered sideways, leaning against the door, one slender arm flailing in gesture that Bond took as an invitation to come in. Once he did, the sharp tang of Vodka hit his nostrils. His suspicions confirmed as Q shut the door and stared at him from over his shoulder, eyes still half-lidded, as he hiccuped. They stood like that for half a minute.

“Fuck. No, people.” Q groaned, breaking his stare as he rubbed at his face before taking a deep breath. “I meant. Normal people,  **knock** , first.” with forced, slow, enunciation before padding over to his sofa. Waving at Bond to join him.

Their conversation carried late into the night, and the more they talked (and more water Bond got Q to drink), the more it helped dim down the many emotions warring in Q’s eyes.

Soft chirping of the early birds brought Bond out of his doze. Q, fast asleep next to him. Having curled up on the sofa, his cold feet tucked underneath Bond’s thighs. 

He carried him to bed, calloused hands unable to resist brushing away those dark locks as he placed Q’s glasses on the table. Looking down at the sleeping man, their conversation still swirling around in his head. 

It dawned on him that his surprise and awkwardness. It really didn’t matter.

Because all that did, was the person who is Q. Gender, orientation, physical appearance. It never was a thing that mattered when it came to Q. Hell, this relationship with Q was the longest Bond had stayed around with no sex involved. For once, Bond was genuinely interested in a person more than he was lusting over them.

Now privy to the more private aspect of Q’s life, Bond resolved he was going to do whatever it takes to be Q’s source of unwavering support. Embolden by his decision, the double oh slid into bed with Q, falling asleep with a grin. 

* * *

\- End


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative POV to the first chapter, with a hint of 'it's complicated' vibe on their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential warning: Profanities. Talk of assholes being assholes to trans people.
> 
> note:  
> BLM = bilateral mastectomy (the surgical removal of both breast tissues)  
> SRS = Sex reassignment surgery

* * *

 

He walked pass the store often, on his way back home towards the tube. That evening, the bottle of Vodka glinted enticingly from the window. Q bought it, stared at it, took a gulp from it. He didn’t even like the taste of it. It said something about his psych that he had resorted to the coping technique of his teenage years. Which also happened to be the same coping technique of a particular double agent. One that wouldn’t leave his thoughts no matter how much Q tried to drown himself in coding.

He had already been on edge since he told Bond - about his… transitioning. The poker face Bond had on was perfect, as expected of the agent, but the way the blue of his eyes darkened. Q knew something was up.

What was he thinking? Is he disgusted? Weirded out? Is he scrambling for an excuse to break up? Did he feel cheated? Did he think Q a liar? What? What?!

Gulp after gulp from the clear glass bottle kept up till he felt his brain swirl pleasantly. Gradually unable to form proper coherent thought, the questions that were plaguing him forgotten, if only for this while. Q stared blankly at Turing, who was pawing at the bottle that hung in Q’s grip. Tilting it side to side, watching the liquid swish.

Q hadn’t felt this insecure in decades. Well, maybe just a decade but fuck it. He thought he was done feeling insecure. He grew some metaphorical balls (he wished they were real), and started hormone therapy, went for his BLM a few years later. Then MI6 happened and he really hadn’t found the time to schedule the next surgery. Haven’t really had the time to think much about it either. Then that bloody git had to blast into his life, the resulting force sweeping him off his feet and soaring higher and higher. Way too high. This was the danger of falling in love.

Was it even love?

“This is gonna be a fucking Taylor Swift song.” Q mumbled as Turing meowed in response. Her weight a comfort against his chest as she sniffed at him, meowing in distaste when she sniffed his breath. Jumping onto the floor and trotting away.

“You’re leaving me too?” Q called out, tipping dangerously on the edge of his sofa. “Turing!” The cat didn’t respond, she was up on Q’s bed having sniffed at his pillows.

The screen next to his door blinked on as a triple beep sounded. There in the small display was-

“Bloody fuck?” Q questioned, rolling down onto the floor ungracefully, not spilling a drop of Vodka from the half empty bottle. 

Bright green eyes stared at the display - from where he was on the floor - watching as the agent took a step back, then forward. Looked to the side, before darting a quick glance at the door, then looking away again. Bond went on a loop of the same repeated movements, with several seconds of stillness before he looped again.

“Is he glitching?” Q wondered, hoisting himself up on unsteady feet and padding over to the door.

“Fucking knock you git.” Speaking to the live-feed of Bond huffing a sigh, looking pointedly to the side. “Oh for fucks sake.” 

He pushed his fringe away from his forehead - messier after repeated abuse from his hands - and stared blearily at the keypad. His finger fumbled and keyed in the wrong code, a red light blinked before he was prompted to key in the passcode again. Cursing at the panel, Q took a deep breath, and tried again. Slowly typing out the seven digit combination and somehow managing to press his thumbprint down properly.

The light blinked green and Q whipped it open, a snarky greeting ready on his lips.

“Normal people fuck first.” Q said confidently, but Bond’s reaction was a confused blink. 

Q frowned, something didn’t sound right. He couldn’t quite place a finger on it, and thinking made his head feel too heavy. So he leaned it against the door.  

“That’s not right.” He heard someone say. Was Bond speaking? Q turned to look at the agent again, frowning harder at him. Was Bond mocking him? Q brought a hand up, intending to point his finger at the rude agent. But the bottle of Vodka weighed down like an anchor and he didn’t manage to raise his arm fully. 

Q heard his door closing, the locks engaging, looking at it in confusion because he didn’t remember shutting the door. Someone cleared their throat behind him, and when Q looked, it was none other than James Bond. Double oh extraordinaire. 

Fishy. Q stared at him. He didn’t knock. Knock. He was thinking about that.

“Fuck.” Q mummers, his brain trying to process what he wanted to say. “No, people.” Q groaned, breaking his stare as he rubbed at his face before taking another deep breath. 

“I meant.” He started, breathing deeply again. “Normal people,  **knock** , first.”

There. Q nodded to himself, feeling oddly proud at that achievement. Then as though on auto-pilot, he made his way back to the sofa. Settled on the soft cushions, Q noticed Bond still standing there. Q frowned, why was he just standing there? He waved at Bond, or flapped his hand was more like it, and settled more comfortably once Bond had sat down.

Q couldn’t remember why Bond had came over. Did he forget another one of their date nights? Q frowned, staring at the ceiling, his schedule evaded his mental landscape. He hadn’t even noticed the Vodka bottle in his hand until Bond took it away from him. 

Staring blankly at his fingers, which suddenly felt lighter, then heavy again when a water bottle was pressed in them.

“It’s your fault you know.” Q stated, both his hands spread open. The bottle of water he was holding swished noisily, Q looked at it, then his fingers as they moved to jab at 007′s shoulder. “Your. Fault.”

“What exactly is my fault?” Bond asked quietly, bracing himself for the berating he probably deserved. 

“Being Fucking hot.” Q stated. “Then being so sweet. I was sold, bloody cinnamon chocolate biscuits from Latvia, or your smile that day. You know?” The agent blinked, processing this.

“Oi. You know?” Q asked again when Bond remained silent.

“Yes.” He quickly said. “I think.” Under his breath.

“What?” Q asked, his voice getting overly loud again.

“Drink.” Bond covered, guiding Q’s water bottle to his lips again. Green eyes, still too bright, frowned but drank anyway.

“What you staring at?” Q gasped, after too long a drink from the bottle of water. “This tastes, very good by the way.” The boffin waved the bottle of water, his eyebrows raising above the rim of his glasses. 

“So?” Q asked, he gestures more freely with his inhibitions lowered. His eyebrows too showing much more expression than they usually did. Bond chuckled, and Q took another swig. When Bond remained silent, Q nudged him with his foot, an eyebrow raised and the other lowered till his left eye was a squint. 

“Normal people fuck first?” Bond said the first thing that came to him, he really couldn’t get that one out of his head. 

“It’s true you know,” Q said, after a long pensive pause. “Most people just wanna check out the bits. Fuckers. Like we’re some circus act.”

Bond had gravitated right next to Q, the hurt and anger in his voice spoke a personal experience. Not just some fact he was retelling. 

“You’re not-” Q began, then turning to look at Bond who was now seated next to him. He could still smell the liquor on Q’s breath. And this close Bond could see the dilation in his pupils, and a crazed shine still in his quartermaster’s eyes. 

“I’m not.” He found himself saying, words hushed as Q’s face inched closer and closer. Between one blink and the next, Q had surged up against him, lips locked and tongue seeking. Bond wasn’t expecting that, but he was prepared when Q made a move to straddle him. 

His grip on Q’s wrist firm as he brought his foot up onto the sofa. Blocking Q’s movements smoothly and gently breaking their kiss. A confused look came onto Q’s face as the bottle was brought back to his lips. 

“Drink.” He said, more gently. Then shifting them so that he was spooning Q from behind, also ensuring Q wouldn’t make any sudden moves. 

“Right, as I was saying” Q sighed. “Those fuckers. They don’t get it you know, they just want sex. My second boyfriend, pfft, fucking git had the nerve to tell me-” Q picked up as though he had left off from somewhere. Bond found himself listening, enraptured in some twisted horror, as Q talked about his past boyfriends. Abbreviations like BLM and SRS drew a blank in Bond’s head so he made a mental note to review them later. 

After ranting for a solid fifteen minutes, Q finally stopped with a long sigh. His lithe body slumping back against Bond’s chest. 

“You’re not like them,” uncertainty in his tone as he tilted his head back, craning his head to look Bond in the eye. “Are you?”

“I’m not.” Bond whispered, his arms moving to wrap around Q. Pressing against a chest that was decidedly male. “I’m not.” He repeated, hoping his conviction goes through, sturdy arms giving Q a squeeze. 

Bond didn’t know jack of the revelation he had stumbled into, but he did know Q. And he knows that at the very base of it, the body Q was in, was just that. A body. Brilliant, snarky, beautiful Q - is the Q he wanted to be with. Male or female never mattered for this double agent. It didn't matter. If Q was currently somewhere in between right now, it didn't matter.

The look of hurt, the uncertainty, that mattered. 

Holding Q close as he leaned them against the back of the sofa, Bond sighed, ruffling the tuffs of dark chocolate curls. “Sleep Q.” He whispered, as Q’s breathing evened out.

Somewhere in his consciousness, Q knew he was drunk, maybe on his way to being sober. He wondered if he’ll remember any of this tomorrow. _Fuck it,_  he thought, warm and comfortable with the scent of James cologne in the air. Q let his hot eyelids fall shut, letting sleep take him. 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot prompt fill from [#24](http://timetospy.tumblr.com/post/162006062219/007-fest-prompt-list) for Trans character day.


End file.
